Playing Games
by HCMONSTER93
Summary: When Blake is mysteriously taken from District 4 by a lone Peacekeeper, things take a turn for the worst. No one moves between Districts and lives to tell the tale. So after her name is drawn for the 72nd Hunger Games, she suspects foul play. However, no one could have predicted the extent of the damage, or the sacrifices Blake must make for those she loves most. . .
1. Prologue: In Danger

Dark had fallen outside. Only the flame torches carried by watchful Peacekeepers could be seen through the night. Not another living soul moved. None dared to.

Inside, however, was a different matter. In a house not far outside of the beach settlement, a couple scrambled as quietly as they could, hurriedly trying to pack necessities into a rucksack small enough to be carried by a child. Neither spoke for fear of being overhead, but occasionally, they'd exchange a nervous glance, silently second guessing their own judgement.

Just as the man's wife had straightened with shaking hands, turning to her husband with a fearful expression as she mustered the courage to question him, someone knocked sharply on the door. The couple went rigid in fear, and a small whimper slipped the wife's lips. Her husband cleared his throat, lowering a hand onto her shoulder comfortingly. "Wait here," he instructed in a quiet voice.

At the door, a Peacekeeper stood with a stern frown. He was like most Peacekeepers in the town; tall, strong and dressed in armour. A dark hood was pulled over his head, as though he didn't want to be recognised. He gave a gruff snort of recognition. "She ready?" he asked under his breath.

The man gulped hard, shaking his head slowly. "W-We were just about to w-wake her," he mumbled back.

The Peacekeeper scowled. "You were told to have her ready. We don't have much time, and Ione wants her out of here. Tonight."

The mention of Ione sent a shudder down the man's spine and he nodded furiously, his chest tightening. "I'll fetch her now," he rushed, spinning back toward his wife.

She stood with her arms wrapped around her upper half, her eyes shining despite the lack of light. Taking one look at her husband's face, she whimpered and bowed her head, leading the way to the back of their house, where their teenage daughter slept soundlessly.

The wife choked sadly at the sight of the fifteen year old girl, lay on her side and scowling in her sleep. "What are we doing, Jared?" she whispered, her voice catching in the back of her throat. "She's our daughter! How can we just send her away like this?"

Jared's expression flickered uncertainly, but his fists clenched in determination. "We have to, Sherrie" he replied sternly. She blinked, teary eyed, but he stepped forward and shook his daughter awake gently.

The girl groaned irritably, her eyelids fluttering as she brought herself round. Slowly, crystal, ocean blue eyes peered back at them curiously. "Dad?" she asked groggily. "What's wrong?"

"Get up, Blake," he replied sternly. The girl hesitated, her face falling at the stern look on her father's face. Eyes flicking back to her mother, she nodded slowly and clambered reluctantly out of her bed to get dressed.

The moment she stepped out of the room, her father took her by the arm and led her back to the front door, where the Peacekeeper was still waiting. Blake's eyes widened in alarm at the sight of him, and she immediately spun to question her parents, obviously panicked. "What's going on?" she mumbled. "I don't understand."

"It doesn't matter," the Peacekeeper blurted, before her father could answer her. "Right now, you are in danger, and it is my job to keep you safe."

Blake shot a disbelieving look over her shoulder at him. "Danger? How could I be in danger? What from? And why would I trust _you_ of all people to keep me safe?"

"Stop asking questions," the Peacekeeper ordered sharply, sending her parents a warning look.

Her mother sniffed. "I'm sorry, sweetheart," she gulped quietly. "I'm so sorry, but you'll be safe this way."

This only served to make Blake more uncomfortable. "Mum," she pleaded softly. "Tell me-"

Suddenly the Peacekeeper bolted forward and grabbed her by the arm, dragging her back and clamping a hand over her mouth to muffle the yelp of surprise. He glowered. "We're out of time," he growled.

"Oh-" Her mother started to object, but the father held her back with a wince.

The Peacekeeper snorted, snatching the rucksack out of their hands. "Then it's done," he declared. "Never mention this or the girl again. Understand?"

"What-" Again, he cut Blake's protests off with his hand, her arms held behind her back with one hand. The rucksack had been slung over his shoulder.

The couple nodded reluctantly. "We understand," the father answered, his voice weak and hoarse. Blake stopped struggling abruptly, and the hurt, lost expression in her eyes wounded her parents much more than anything else could have done.

And still, there was nothing they could do but watch as the Peacekeeper dragged her away into the darkness.


	2. 01: Two Years Later

"Blake? Hey, Blake? Are you up?"

I scowled at the ceiling, unable to ignore the infuriating teenage girl kicking the underneath of my top bunk bed. Of course I was up. I hadn't slept properly in two years.

Eva's head suddenly popped up beside my bed, and her face split into a wicked grin when she noticed my eyes were open. "Morning, sunshine," she grinned.

"Is it?" I sighed heavily, rolling over on my side and turning my back to her.

She snorted darkly, prodding my spine. "Come on. If we go now, we'll be back before anyone ever knew we were gone."

I really didn't want to move, but I knew she was right. It was still dark out, and most of the Peacekeepers would still be sleeping. Those who were up had bigger things on their minds than a few orphan kids sneaking out of the grotty care centre. No one ever cared what we did. It's not like anyone was here to miss us if we were gone.

_No,_ I thought sourly. _Because my parents evicted me from an entire District._

"Oh come on, Blake!" Eva hissed, prodding me again and jumping down softly. "Get a move on. Erik will be waiting!"

Taking a deep breath, I kicked away the itchy blankets covering my bed and jumped off the side with a soft thump. Eva was already dressed in old jeans, a slim shirt and an jacket, her caramel skin shining in the moonlight and her black hair braided back strictly. Winking at me once, she snatched a hidden rucksack from underneath the bed and slipped out of the room silently, leaving me to get dressed.

My shoulders sagged wryly as I moved, an effect of the care home here. Too long inside, and I started to feel claustrophobic and trapped, a feeling I had begun to accept in the past few months. The only thing that kept me going was the outings with Eva and Erik, something I would have never dared to do back in District 4.

I shook the thoughts away, regarding myself in the old, dirty mirror that stood on the far side of the room. Thinking about that place wasn't going to help me any, and I'd learnt long ago that people reacted better to foul moods if you masked them with sarcasm and a smirk. It was easy to mistake the furious glint in my ocean-blue eyes for humour, and that the arrogant smirk tugging at my lips wasn't restraining a snarl. And I was good at wearing the disguise. Not even my parents back in 4 ever really understood what I was feeling. Sometimes, if I did it long enough, I could even convince myself.

Dragging on a pair of slim fitting trousers, a black tank top and an old brown leather jacket, I wrapped my dark brunette hair into a bun at the top of my neck and took a deep breath. Though I'd tried my best to fit in with the other kids in this District, I still bore trademark signs of a healthier upbringing. My cheeks weren't as hollow, and my body was slim and lithe, not skin and bone. Even the way I held myself - with more confidence and life - was different here. Here, the Peacekeepers were harsher and more brutal. All hope and happiness had been drained from this place, and it was something I had had to force myself to get used to.

Grabbing my bag and creeping out of the room, I made a conscious effort to avoid creaking floorboards and slipped down the corridor as quietly as possible. I cast a brief glance around to make sure no one was watching, I took the stairs hurriedly and moved down another dark, dusty corridor until I reached the kitchen at the back of the building.

"You took your time," Erik scolded in a quiet, gruff voice, nudging Eva who'd been peering through the window to make sure the coast was clear. The two looked very similar, though since they were twins, I guessed it made sense. Erik was taller by about a foot, with the same caramel skin and short black hair, wearing scruffy trousers, boots that were falling apart, and a black shirt beneath an old knit jumper.

Eva grinned at us over her shoulder. "We're clear. You guys ready, or we going to stay here?"

I couldn't help groaning with a roll of my eyes. "How did you have so much energy this early in the morning?" I moaned, winking deliberately in Erik's direction while she wasn't looking. His lips tugged at the sides slightly.

"She's just that determined to annoy us," he answered simply, earning him a glower from his sister.

"Can we just go?" she insisted. "I'd like to eat sometime today!"

Since neither of us could argue otherwise, we adjusted our bags on our shoulders and followed her out of the door. Technically, the doors were supposed to be locked, but since all the locks were incredibly old, it was easy to pick it open.

We crept through the District, toward the outside of town, where a large gap had been made in the fence that separated us from the rest of the world. It was supposed to be electrified, but it very rarely, if ever, was. On occasion, we'd decide it just wasn't worth the chance, but today, it didn't seem to matter.

Today was the day of the Reaping.

I couldn't help letting my mind drift to that topic as Eva, Erik and I trampled through the dry, waist high fields that surrounded District 11. Over seventy years ago, the country we lived in, Panem, had been made up of thirteen Districts and the Capitol. But District 13 grew fed up with the harsh rule of the Capitol and led a rebellion, known as the Dark Days, against the Capitol. Ultimately, it led to their complete annihilation, and now District 13 was nothing more than a wasteland.

The Capitol also sought to punish the remaining twelve Districts for taking part in the rebellion, leading to the creation of the Hunger Games. Each year, two children from each of the twelve Districts - one boy and one girl aged between twelve and eighteen years old - were offered as tributes in the Games. They were selected at the Reaping, where all the name of eligible candidates were put in two separate bowls for males and females, and one from each was selected. These Tributes were then taken from their Districts, trained for a week and paraded in front of the citizens of the Capitol, then forced into an arena where they had to fight to the death. Twenty four Tributes went in, and one Victor came out. The Victor was awarded extra food rations and money for their family, as well as being allowed to live in the Victor's Village - the wealthiest part of the District - and their names would never be entered for the Games again.

The Games were made even more unfair by the way they were played. For example, Districts 1, 2 and 4, the wealthiest Districts in Panem, were known as the _'Career'_ Districts, because children there actually trained their whole lives and volunteered themselves, seeing victory in the Games as a form of glory. On the other hand, Districts 12 and 11 were the poorest in Panem, and none of the children were physically fit enough to stand much of chance. This was made worse by the concept of tesserae. Children were allowed to enter their names in the Reaping more times in exchange of a small supple of grain and oil for their families, most of whom depended on this to get through the year without starving.

This year it was the 72nd Hunger Games, and District 11 was waiting with baited breath for it all to be over. It wasn't felt quite as strongly in the care centre - if an orphan was offered up as a Tribute, it was almost a relief to the rest of the District. At least that way no one was left to feel the pain afterward.

At seventeen years old, I'd been entered in the Games twenty-one times. At eighteen, Eva and Erik had both been entered twenty-eight times. Honestly, I sometimes wondered if the others in the District were right. It might be better if one of us were taken rather than one of the other kids with families to care for.

Finally, the three of us reached a wooded area that surrounded a reasonably small lake area. Eva stretched out with a wide yawn and grinned again. "Let's get started, shall we?"

The three of us split up, with Erik setting up a fire by the lake and Eva and I setting up traps in the wood to catch a few rabbits to eat. I gratefully left the pleasant company of the twins, letting my expression fall the moment I was out of sight, pulling my jacket around my upper body tighter and shifting through the fallen leaves as quietly as I could. Setting traps for game was quite easy, but it still took a while. Steady hands were essential, unless you wanted to lose your fingers.

About an hour and a half later, after I'd set up four traps in the surrounding woodland, I straightened out, pleased with my own work, and turned back toward the camp by the lake. Erik was lay flat on his back, scowling at the brightening sky thoughtfully. The sight made me hesitate. I knew that look. That was the look that meant he was thinking about the Hunger Games.

"Blake!" Eva's voice came from behind him, and I spun in surprise. She frowned, patting my shoulder. "Hey, you alright?"

"Sure," I grimaced. "Fine."

She grinned at me. "Come on then. Might as well make ourselves comfortable, ey?" The two of us moved across the clearing and slumped down onto the grass beside Erik, who hurriedly shook away his scowl and propped himself up.

"All set?" he clarified. Eva and I nodded our confirmation at him, and he seemed to relax slightly at the thought of a decent meal. Eva looked the same. I, on the other hand, accepted that this was better than the pathetic excuse of a meal we'd receive at the care centre, but also knew my last decent meal had been the last I ate in District 4. The thought of the place made me shiver, but I found I couldn't shake it away now I had nothing more to do.

I'd never told Erik and Eva where I was really from. As far as they were concerned, I was from a house outside the town where my parents had died. They had no idea that a Peacekeeper had snuck me out of District 4 two years ago, the day before the Reaping for the 70th Hunger Games. I'd never known _why_ exactly I'd been taken out, but the timing . . . the thought it had had something to do with the Hunger Games made me sick to the stomach. I'd seen the poor girl, Annie Cresta, they'd chosen that year. She'd been driven insane when she watched her partner beheaded. After that, she hid away from the other Tributes until an earthquake broke a dam and flooded the arena. Since she was the best swimmer - being from the fishing District 4 - she won. As far as I knew, she was still unstable.

In some respects, I missed District 4 with a passion. It was warm, sunny, and I spent most of my days teaching younger kids to swim. I had friends at the school, I ate better, dressed better, and I had parents who cared if I didn't return home at the right time, or if I snuck out in the morning. In other respects, I hated the very thought of it. My parents had banished me, without bothering to explain why. I wasn't sure I'd ever manage to make myself look at them if ever the opportunity arose.

The worst part of it all was the thought I was bound to get caught. One day, someone was bound to realise that the Blake Hart who'd magically appeared in District 11 looked remarkably similar to the Blake Lockart that disappeared from District 4. How my parents had explained my absence from the Reaping that year, I wasn't sure.

Eva's foot suddenly appeared out of nowhere and kicked my shin sharply. I blinked, shaking the thoughts away. "Earth to Blake," she scolded. "Honestly, what is with you this morning?"

I shrugged a shoulder. "Just thinking about the Games," I replied as casually as I could, leaning back on my palms.

Erik winced sharply. "I'm sure there's nothing to worry about," he dismissed uncertainly. "I mean, there are kids out there with more entries than us, right? Those that have to take tesserae?"

Eva said nothing, but I nodded slowly. "I suppose," I sighed. "Still, don't you think . . . you know, it'd be easier if it was one of us?"

The two turned to me sharply. "What?" Erik choked. "What do you mean?"

I felt my cheeks flush. "The other kids all have families to care for," I pointed out quietly. "Us . . . no one's going to miss us if we're gone, right?"

Eva scoffed weakly, avoiding my gaze. "Thanks, Blake," she muttered.

"You know what I meant," I scowled. "Just . . . I can't help thinking that I don't exactly have parents that will mourn if I die, do I?" Again, neither of them said anything, but I knew they were thinking the same as me. Only, they were terrified to admit it.

The rest of the morning didn't improve. The small bits of meat we'd managed to catch were enough to make a small, unappetising breakfast, with some left over to trade with on the black market. Since neither of the twins were comfortable trading behind the backs of the Peacekeepers, I collected the meat as usual and bid the two of them goodbye, making my own way back to the District.

The sun had long since risen in the sky, but since most of the District wasn't working, no one was in a rush to get out of bed. Still, there was a reasonable crowd in the Town Centre, and the black market was as busy as ever. Despite the fact it was illegal, almost everyone used it. My lips pursed, I moved through the market and traded my catches as quickly as possible, keeping my head down, my hood up and avoiding conversation. Luckily, hardly anyone ever recognised the orphans from the centre.

It was on my way back through the centre of town that I ran into my first problem of the day.

A small crowd was beginning to gather in the town centre. Being just as curious as the other spectators, I skirted through the masses until I could see what was going on. In the middle, two boys were arguing with the Head Peacekeeper, Paula Riley. She was tall and remarkably skinny, even for District 11, yet she was known for her brutality. Her face was taunt, her eyes were empty and she was as cold hearted as the Capitol itself.

Both boys had olive skin and dark hair with hazel eyes, but the one at the back was shorter and skinnier, while the guy stood between them was stronger and sterner. The shorter one looked ill, obviously terrified to the core, and the stronger one was frowning, his fists clenched as he forced himself to remain on the spot.

If I was being honest, I recognised the taller one. Almost every girl in the District knew Trey Forge. He was probably the best looking guy in the District, not that he ever seemed to notice. He had very little time for anyone who wasn't family, most notably his younger brother, Layton, known for his lack of bravery. I figured that was who was cowering behind him. If it was, he certainly didn't have his brother's looks.

The Head Peacekeeper was glowering at Trey when I managed to elbow my way to the front. "Move out of my way, Mr Forge," she warned in quiet, dangerous voice. "My problem is not with you."

Trey didn't budge. "I can't do that," he replied.

Her jaw locked irritably, and I physically flinched for him. Everyone knew what happened with Riley got angry. "I'm giving you one last chance, Forge," she said through gritted teeth. "Out of my way."

"No," he snarled back.

Without another word, she brought her hand - equipped with a large, golden ring - right across his cheek. The dull thud it made caused the crowd to gasp loudly, but Trey didn't make a sound, his face contorted with pain as blood trailed down his face from the large gash torn right across his cheek.

Behind him, Layton made an undignified choking sound, and a small, high-pitched yelp sounded from the distance. I spun, stunned as a little girl no more than eight years old pushed past people's legs to get into the middle of the square. She staggered forward on small legs and flung her arms around Trey's limp body.

Riley looked as though she was about to explode in anger. Her eyes flashed, her jaw locked and her fists clenched at her sides. All I saw was her hand flinched backward, and in the time it took me to taking a ragged breath, my feet were skidding forward.

"Stop," I breathed, wide-eyed as I stopped in front of the girl, but at this point, Riley looked murderous. Her expression demented in anger, she back-handed me as hard as possible, and my neck cracked loudly as her ring tore through my hood and the first few layers of skin, the force making me stagger back a step and cower away from her. The pain burned everywhere from my shoulder blades up, and my eyes stung with hot tears. Despite all of that, stubbornness shot through me and I felt myself straightening out, glaring back at her.

"How DARE YOU!" she yelled at me, shaking in anger. Without hesitating, she lifted a hand and I braced for the second impact, closing my eyes tightly. But her hand latched around my throat tightly, and she dragged me closer, watching with a sick amusement as my eyes flashed open in shock beneath my hood. "You think you're clever?" she snarled at me.

Her grip tightened around my throat, and I choked, wriggling awkwardly in her hold. "Never," I admitted through my teeth. "I have a bad habit of getting into trouble, see."

For a second, Riley's expression flickered in astonishment. But it didn't take her long to recover, doubling her grip and turning to face the audience that had gathered. "Do you see?" she shouted, her voice quivering in fury. "Do you see what bravery gets you?" Grimacing in delight at the fearful looks she received, she yanked the hood down onto my shoulders to show them all the cut across my cheek. "Look at you," she spat at me, and I gasped for air, trying my best to glower back. "You're nothing more than a little girl hiding beneath a hood, and you think you worry me?"

Scoffing arrogantly, she pushed me back until I crashed to the floor beside Trey and the little girl. He glanced up at me wryly, confused but grateful I'd intervened. "Take them all away! Get them out of my sight!" Riley snapped at the other Peacekeepers, and they marched forward.

Something in my stomach knotted at the sight of them, and the little girl squealed in fright, scrambling away from the nearest Peacekeeper. My chest clenched, and I once again felt myself shifting before I'd given it a thought, swiping my leg out to trip the Peacekeeper as I pushed myself unsteadily to my feet.

"Hey!" another objected, pulling his fist back. Instinct kicked in and adrenaline surged through my veins. Suddenly, my heart was pumping and all my actions blurred together. I ducked, catching his wrist as it passed and twisting slightly. He yelped and turned, right into the knee I'd brought up into his stomach. The pained sound was cut short as the wind was forced out of his lungs, and I shoved him back into the next brave Peacekeeper as a shot of victory sent a rush through me like live electricity. As I watched them crash to the floor, hands clamped onto my shoulders and I automatically brought my elbow back to smash into their face. I heard the Peacekeeper crumble to the floor, then silence.

I took a ragged breath, scanning the square with my muscles still tensed. Riley had disappeared. Where, I wasn't sure, but she'd left the other Peacekeepers to deal with her mess. Another four were watching me, stunned, and behind me, Trey was back on his feet, shielding Layton and the little girl.

In the few seconds of silence, I managed to note every single stunned face in the crowd, and suddenly my chest clenched in fear. What on Earth had I just done?

Suddenly, all four Peacekeepers bolted toward me and I tensed, panicked and alarmed. There was no way I could face down four of them, all now armed, on my own. Not that I had much time to think about it.

As the four Peacekeepers reached me, some solid smashed into the back of my head and I instantly crumbled to the floor, darkness descending.


	3. 02: The Hunger Games - Reaping

The next thing I remembered was someone dabbing a freezing cold, soaking wet cloth across my forehead. A dull pain was shooting through my skull, and a groan slipped my lips before I could help it.

"Hey, she's waking up!" a familiar voice came softly. "Blake? Can you hear me?"

I restrained another groan, shifting with a wince. "What happened?"

Someone gave a deep, throaty chuckle as the cloth was dabbed across my forehead again. "What happened is a little girl beat three Peacekeepers to a pulp," the unfamiliar, deep voice said. "You're lucky to only have a mild concussion."

"Mild?" I grumbled, reluctantly letting my eyes flicker open. I was lay in across a plush sofa, obviously not in the care centre. The whole room seemed to be covered in a dark mahogany wood, and a large fire crackled in the fireplace to the left. A coffee table in front of the sofa was laid out with a bowl of water, several drinks and a large stack of sandwiches. The sight made my stomach grumble loudly.

"Here," Eva sighed, stretching out across the table to hand me a sandwich. "Sit up slowly, and if you can hold your stomach, you can eat." She was trying to sound light-hearted, but her eyebrows were tight with concern.

I shot her a soft look with a small smirk. "I'm fine, Eva," I insisted, struggling to push myself upright without moving my head. "It was only a few Peacekeepers."

"Eight," Erik's disapproving voice came, and I glanced up to see him leaning in the doorway with a scowl. "Five of them had guns."

"I only saw four with guns," I argued dismissively, taking the sandwich from Eva and biting into it cautiously.

"Yes, well you wouldn't have seen the fifth," Eva shrugged with an exasperated roll of her eyes. "They were behind you. Managed to push past the Forges to smack you around the back of the head with the end of the gun."

I winced, lifting a hand to my wound, where a large, delicate lump was protruding from the base of my head. "Ouch," I grimaced, my stomach churning sickly.

"Ouch indeed," the deep voice came, and I started, turning too quickly and yelping at the pain. A man I recognised stood by the kitchen doorway, tall and dark-skinned, with dark eyes that sparkled kindly. His name was Chaff, and he was one of the only Victors of the Hunger Games District 11 had, along with a woman named Seeder.

"You've got skills, kid," he grinned at me. "You're not very smart, but you can fight."

"It doesn't matter if she _can_ fight," Eva glowered at him. "She shouldn't have been anywhere near there! What were you thinking, Blake? That was the Forges' problem, not yours, and those pretty boys could do with being brought down a peg or two anyway!"

I felt my eyebrows tighten into an uncharacteristic scowl. "It wasn't the guys that bothered me," I mumbled darkly. "It was the little girl Riley was about to smack."

Eva's face straightened a fraction. "The little girl . . . you mean Desirae Forge, Trey's baby sister? Look, Blake, I agree she doesn't deserve it, but she's Trey's sister to take care of, not yours."

"Eva," I warned with a glower. "It was a choice between me, and an innocent eight year old girl. Not much of a decision as far as I'm concerned, no matter who's sister she is."

It didn't matter how much I argued back, Eva was determined. "Do you have any idea how mad Riley is at you right now?" she retorted. "You humiliated those Peacekeepers! Imagine, a seventeen year old girl from District 11 bringing down Peacekeepers without breaking a sweat! Where did you even learn to do that?"

I hesitated. What was I supposed to say? That I'd been being trained for the Hunger Games since I was old enough to stand? Chaff cleared his throat loudly with a wide grin. "Well! Wherever you learnt it, we could probably use you to mentor the Tributes." He winked like we were sharing some sort of inside joke, one that I didn't get.

I coughed awkwardly, ignoring the strange looks from the twins. "Where are we?"

"My place," Chaff answered, smiling at me pleasantly. "Seeder and I were talking to the Mayor about plans for the Reaping later when we saw your little . . . episode, shall we say? Seeder took the Forges back home, and I helped your friends bring you here. Better for you to recover away from the sight of Paula Riley."

"So you brought me to the Victors Village?" I snorted. "Very subtle." Chaff just snorted with a wide grin. Rolling my eyes, I threw my legs over the side of the sofa and tried to stand. The moment I pushed off from my seat, my head swam in dizziness and I had to clamp a hand over my mouth to stop myself from gagging.

"Whoa, hey," Eva scolded, taking my shoulders and lowering me back down to the sofa. "Maybe you should sit still for a while."

I glanced out of the window and scowled. "It's almost noon. The Reaping will be soon."

"Blake, look at you," Erik sighed. "At this rate, you'll never even make the Reaping!"

I let out a stunned laugh before I could help it. "You think there's even a small chance Riley will let me get out of the Reaping after this morning?" The twins shared an awkward look, but Chaff nodded in agreement with a small shrug of his shoulders. "Exactly. Now would one of you lovely people please help me back to the centre so that I can get ready?"

Neither of them were thrilled, but Chaff gave me a small drop of morphling for the pain building in my head and helped me get back to my feet. I gave him small thank you, then ignored the disapproving looks I received from Erik as I slipped one of my arms through his. "Lead the way," I grimaced, blinking a few times in a vain attempt to get rid of the black dots in my vision. He said nothing, tightening his hold and leading me out of the house with Eva hot on our heels, just in case I fell back.

By the time we reached the care centre, it was almost time for the Reaping. Erik handed me over to Eva cautiously, scowling in concern at the two of us as we made for the girls dormitories on the right hand side of the building. But as Eva pushed our door open, I staggered through the opening and crumbled to my knees with my hand clamped over my mouth.

"Dear God, Blake!" Eva cursed, hurrying to pick me up gently. "How do you expect to get to the square like this?"

"I'm not missing this, Eva," I glowered at her. "And I'm _not_ giving Riley the satisfaction of dragging me down there either. Just . . . let's get this over with."

"But Blake-"

"Eva," I warned. "Stop." She closed her mouth with an exasperated groan, waving a dismissive hand in my direction and moving to get herself sorted. I took small steps to find my own clothes for the Reaping, gulping down as much cold air as humanly possible.

The two of us dressed in opposite corners of the room in utter silence. A tension was beginning to knot the pit of my stomach tightly, and my hands shook as I adjusted the lace tying my dress up at the back. It was an old, worn white colour that stood out against my heavy tan and dark hair that curled down to my elbows. Carefully working around my wound, I clipped it into place down my back as I scanned my reflection in the mirror. After a moment of careful consideration, I picked my jacket back up and slung it over my shoulders, yanking my hood back over my head.

_A little girl hiding, huh?_ I thought irritably.

"Oh, Blake!" Eva cursed when she noticed. "It's covered in blood."

"It's called making a point," I argued.

"Really? And what's that?"

"That I'm as stupid as they all think I am," I grinned back sarcastically, and she sighed at me exasperatedly.

"I can't wait until today's over," she muttered quietly, shaking her head at me. "Just one more day."

My stomach twisted tighter. Honestly, I wasn't sure I was supposed to hear the last part. But it should have been obvious. This year was the last year Eva and Erik were entered for the Hunger Games, but I still had a whole year after this. _Just two more Reapings,_ I told myself, adjusting Eva's own words. _Two more days, and then it's all over._

"Come on then," she sighed, turning to face me properly and offering her arm again. "The quicker this is over, the quicker you can rest and recover." I took her arm with a grateful smile and let her help me down the stairs.

It took longer than normal to get down into the square, and by the time we were there, I thought I was going to black out again. My breath came in short gasps and my head was swimming. Each of the candidates were separated by age and gender, so as Eva and I moved through the register, Eva reluctantly moved up to stand at the very front with the other eighteen year old girls, while I took my rather other steady place behind her with the other seventeen year olds. All of us formed lines in front of the large Justice Building, facing a large flight of stairs that led up to the front doors. Surrounding the square, cameras had been set up, shooting live to the Capitol. Parents and bystanders lined the edges of the square, waiting with baited breath to see who was going to be picked.

After a few minutes, the town Mayor and our District's ambassador to the Capitol exited the Justice Building. I'd never particularly liked our District escort, Flynn - a tall, lanky man with red tattoos all over his face - but this year, he looked worse for wear. His hands shook at his sides nervously, and every now and then, his amber eyes would flick toward the Peacekeepers stood at the side. I tried not to let that worry me, but it was harder than I thought it should have been.

Four chairs had been sat outside the Justice Building, and all were occupied. Two were for Flynn and the Mayor, while the other two were for the only living Victors District 11 currently had. I could see Chaff sat at the end of the row, smiling as pleasantly as he had at me back in the Victors Village. Beside him sat Seeder, an older lady with olive skin and dark hair streaked with silver. Her amber eyes watched over the young girls with an unreadable expression.

Suddenly, the Mayor was stepping forward and welcoming the crowd. He slipped into his usual speech about how the Hunger Games had started, explaining that the Districts had rebelled and we'd brought it on ourselves. The Games were basically a way for the Capitol to humiliate us all. He didn't say it, of course, but it was always implied.

Finally, Flynn stepped forward. To stop his hands shaking, he clenched the stand tightly. "Good evening!" he called, in false, cheery voice that made me shudder with a grimace. "Welcome to the 72nd Hunger Games! May the odds be ever in your favour!"

There was a short, unenthusiastic round of applause, but it cut short as he stepped toward two large glass bowls. For a moment, he wavered and I felt my eyebrows rise. Then he cleared his throat loudly and clapped his hands together. "Ladies first, as always!" he declared, stepping forward and dipping his hand into the right hand bowl. Rustling around the bowl for a slip of paper, he eventually picked one and stepped back to the microphone at the stand.

"And District 11's female tribute is . . . Blake Hart!"

It felt like I'd suddenly shut down. Around me, all the other girls seemed unsure of whether or not to look pitiful or relieved. Flynn's voice calling my name was ringing in my ears. This couldn't be happening. I was numb, from the inside out.

Then the girl beside me nudged me with her elbow harshly, her eyes wide and fearful, and my stomach dropped through the ground and my heart leapt into my throat. Clenching my fists at my sides to stop them shaking, I forced myself to move forward in a sort of trance, determined to keep my expression straight. To the right, I could see Eva, gawping straight ahead of her in fear, and to the left, Erik looked ready to be sick. Everyone else was whispering, pointing at me through the crowds. Apparently, they recognised me from the _'episode' _with the Peacekeepers before. I could even see Paula Riley glowering at me in the distance.

Just as I reached the first step up toward the Justice Building, a strangled cry sounded from the back of the square and I spun in surprise. "No!" Horrified, I could do nothing but watch as the little girl from the square, Desirae, bolted straight toward me, tears streaming down her cheeks. Fear clogged my throat and she collided with my stomach, wrapping her arms tightly around my middle as she blubbered. "You can't go!" she sniffed loudly. "You can't leave!"

I gulped hard, eyes widening in shock. I didn't even know the girl. She had large innocent chocolate eyes with mouse brown hair, and even now and then she glanced back toward Layton and Trey for help. Neither of them moved, but that was probably because Layton was rooted to the spot in fear, and Trey was being restrained by half of the other boys around him. I stared at him, stunned, and all I got was a scowl in return.

"Desirae, you need to let go," I mumbled, afraid of breaking down in front of the cameras. The one thing I couldn't stand was innocent children upset and hurt. But the little girl wouldn't release her grip, soaking the side of my dress with her tears. The lump in my throat grew a fraction. "Desirae, please!" I hissed. "Let go!"

She shook her head with a loud sniff. "You can't leave! I won't let you!"

The Peacekeepers started to shuffle forward, and I began to get desperate. I wasn't sure beating them up on live TV would do me any favours. Dragging the little girl's arms away from my middle, I knelt down in front of her and shifted close enough to whisper to her. "You have to get back in line, Des," I urged pathetically, my voice cracking slightly. "Please!"

She sniffed, tears streaming down her face. "You can't leave," she mumbled.

My chest constricted. "You need to get back in line. You need to be here for your family, remember?"

Sniffing loudly, she threw her arms around my neck and squeezed, making my teeth sink into my bottom lip to stop myself from yelping out in pain. She let me go in the same second, stumbling back a step and blinking tears out of her eyes. Pursing my lips, I spun as quickly as I could and strode up the stairs two at a time, my face straight and determined.

"Blake Hart, everyone!" Flynn announced, pulling me closer to stand beside him. Shaking my hand roughly, he cleared his throat again. "So, err . . . was that your younger sister, perhaps?"

I kept my face straight as best as I could. "No," I replied in monotone. "I have no family."

An eerie silence followed, and Flynn shuffled on his feet, turning away from me awkwardly. Shaking himself out, he stepped toward the other bowl with the male names. But he'd left something in my hand, and it took a lot not to frown curiously. Clasping my hands in front of me, I waited patiently for him to call the male tribute forward, unable to shift the twisting in my stomach.

He dipped his hand into the bowl and fished around with his eyes closed for a second. Then, with another dramatic flourish, he pulled a piece of paper out and stepped back to the microphone. "And the male tribute for District 11 is . . . Layton Forge!"

_Oh no,_ I groaned internally, feeling my eyes roll before I could help it.

The crowd was muttering darkly, and as Layton staggered into the middle of the square as uncoordinated as a toddler, I could see the Head Peacekeeper Paula Riley smirking in the background. Desirae was crying inconsolably, being dragged back by a sickened looking Trey. By the sound of the crowd, Layton's lack of balance was well-known among most of the District 11's inhabitants. Some of the adults were scowling as they watched him lumber up the stairs. Others looked ready to be sick. Vaguely, I wondered how many of them believed in coincidence.

I kept my expression straight with great difficulty, eyes fixed on the boy. He glanced briefly in my direction, the panic evident in his eyes. Carefully, I shook my head a fraction to the side and back again. His eyes widened and he gulped as he staggered on the last step.

"Well!" Flynn laughed awkwardly. "Congratulations to Mr Forge!" Layton shifted uncomfortably, taking Flynn's hand reluctantly. Without a word, he took his place at the other side of the microphone. "Mr Mayor? Any last words of encouragement?"

I didn't really listen to what the Mayor had to say next. Instead, I found myself rolling the slip of paper Flynn had given me between my hands. Why would he do that? What did it say? And how was I supposed to survive the Hunger Games with Layton Forge as back-up?

I couldn't decide which was worse; knowing I was going to fail, or that I had to try my hardest anyway.

When the Mayor finished talking, Flynn placed his hands on our shoulders and pulled us together. Layton looked sick and his hand quivered as he stretched it out toward me. "Smile," Flynn told us through his teeth. "You're on camera, remember?" I tried not to scowl at him, but I certainly couldn't make myself smile. Instead, I took Layton's hand quickly, then allowed myself to be steered toward my new mentor, Seeder. She grimaced at me once, and led me into the Justice Building.

And as I stepped through the doors, I couldn't help thinking that this could be the last day I ever spent in District 11.


End file.
